[ Tall, dark, and handsome is a description that fits an honestly absurd number of people on the Moira. Even scratching off that last adjective and replacing it with superpowers and a bad disposition hasn't narrowed things down as much as she'd like.
Alice has been spending her spare time combing the network, cross-referencing the directory, and trying her vain best to guess who's packing a crazy magic punch this time.
But in the end, she doesn't find him by looking. Mero Deck is a small enough place to pass in the hall. ]
Excuse me —
[ She fumbles the pile of books in her arms, offers a half-smile up. Tall, check. Dark, check-check. Bad disposition...? ]
I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. Are you rooming on Mero?
On the morning of the 16th, Kylo Ren will receive a hypospray of fast-penta in his mailbox. It contains two doses and the only information accompanying it is the label affixed to the hypospray.
[ if you have any questions about fast-penta, feel free to comment to that page or hit me up at runawayballista. ]
On the morning of the 17th, Kylo Ren will receive a MID message informing him of a delivery. Padme's dress and accessories collection will be waiting for him in the cargo bay.
[ He's alive—that's the heart of it. Kylo Ren can ignore the man, but his sense of him in the Force never entirely fades.
He should have killed him. With every passing second, his failure becomes more inexcusable.
Go away, he wants to snap. He considers not answering at all, or lying, but he's not going to let someone as insignificant as Han Solo make a liar of him. In the end, he writes only one word: ] Why?
Kylo can probably guess what event led to the question--or maybe he can't, nearly two months after it happened. Who knows? He isn't all that forthcoming about...well, just about anything, in her experience.]
[Clara hasn't been sleeping well at all, so she's essentially lost track of time. Which is why she sends a video message his way at an incredibly late hour, not realizing the time. She figures he can just respond to her whenever he gets around to it. She looks exhausted, skin pale and dark circles under her eyes. She's smiling though, just a little, not about to let this whole work induced insomnia get the best of her.]
I feel that you should know we'll be working together in the foreseeable future.
[Yep, that's right, she's recently been named an Intelligence Operative. Not that she hasn't been pretending she was already one to begin with.]
Also, I need to ask your help. I think it may end up being important that I do.
I meant once the current situation is over. My job title's been changed.
[The fact that he bothers responding puts a smile on her face, and she can't help but laugh softly at the fact he took the time to say something only to sound like he's sneering at her. The fact that he almost looks peaceful puts her more at ease, and she ignores the tone of his voice to just keep talking casually. Like they're friends.]
Speaking of the current situation -
[She hesitates, not knowing how he's going to take her question. ]
[ Slowly, his attention narrows, a trace of the customary sharpness in his gaze. A hint of admiration in his voice. ] Yes, you were careful never to specify what that was.
[ Her question is a non sequitur, as far as he's concerned, as out of place as her smile. The teams are just the latest bit of irrelevance from the captains.
It takes him a moment to recall: ] Defense. [ He has not attended a single meeting. ]
[ Obi-Wan doesn't quite expect a reply — especially not after their last (and only) interaction — but he's plagued with a purpose. It's likely not to be considered one of Kenobi's better ideas, particularly with common company, but that doesn't seem to matter to the Jedi Master. Nor does the hour, which happens to be quite early in the morning, practically very late to those who haven't slept yet. ]
[ The hours of waiting don't bother Kenobi, particularly because he doesn't realize he's waiting. And when the reply finally arrives, he can at least take amusement from it in that Kylo is probably one of the only people he knows on this ship that actually keeps normal hours. ]
[He spends a long time looking at the little data cube before he dares to play its recorded message. It could be anything. It could, really, but Han has a feeling he can guess at the contents, or at least the sender. He might not have Leia's alleged preternatural senses, but he knows a thing or three about luck.
So when Ben's face appears, it isn't entirely unexpected, but somehow it takes him by surprise all the same. It should feel like looking a stranger-- he doesn't know this boy at all-- but it doesn't. He finds himself smiling at his son's laugh, his story; ducks his head a bit at the end, unconsciously mirroring the motion.
And then he sits a long while, and then he watches it again, and once more, and then he scrolls through the functions on his MID without giving himself a chance to think better of the idea.]
[ Days after dealing with Kenobi he's still had his fill of talk. The man poisons with language, his words shifting, corrupting.
The message on his screen is nothing like that. It's sparse. It is, strangely, a relief.
Just us.
Kylo adjusts the settings on his MID. He speaks with his eyes closed, ignoring his voice and whatever trembles within it. ] The last time we did that, you died.
[ He'll be there when Han Solo arrives, waiting with ill-disguised impatience. His lightsaber is clipped to his side, his glass shoulder swaddled in fabric and buried under layers of clothing. He holds himself rigid—there's no concealing the infirmity when he moves. ] Well? [ His voice rings out before Han can speak. There's an edge to it, an eagerness.
Beneath the canopy of stars he looks small. They both do. ]
just let me know if this doesn't work
Alice has been spending her spare time combing the network, cross-referencing the directory, and trying her vain best to guess who's packing a crazy magic punch this time.
But in the end, she doesn't find him by looking. Mero Deck is a small enough place to pass in the hall. ]
Excuse me —
[ She fumbles the pile of books in her arms, offers a half-smile up. Tall, check. Dark, check-check. Bad disposition...? ]
I'm sorry, I don't think we've met. Are you rooming on Mero?
4/16; mailbox
[ if you have any questions about fast-penta, feel free to comment to that page or hit me up at
Delivery
[voice]
What do you have against Han Solo?
[text]
He should have killed him. With every passing second, his failure becomes more inexcusable.
Go away, he wants to snap. He considers not answering at all, or lying, but he's not going to let someone as insignificant as Han Solo make a liar of him. In the end, he writes only one word: ] Why?
Re: [text]
[Leia's not tipping her hand until she has to.
Kylo can probably guess what event led to the question--or maybe he can't, nearly two months after it happened. Who knows? He isn't all that forthcoming about...well, just about anything, in her experience.]
[text]
[ Unless she offers something in return, that's all he intends to say. ]
Re: [text]
[text]
Re: [text]
[text]
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video - backdated to like 6/25
I feel that you should know we'll be working together in the foreseeable future.
[Yep, that's right, she's recently been named an Intelligence Operative. Not that she hasn't been pretending she was already one to begin with.]
Also, I need to ask your help. I think it may end up being important that I do.
no subject
It's possible he replies only because that phrase deserves to be sneered. He hasn't begun to consider its implications. ]
All thirty minutes of it.
no subject
[The fact that he bothers responding puts a smile on her face, and she can't help but laugh softly at the fact he took the time to say something only to sound like he's sneering at her. The fact that he almost looks peaceful puts her more at ease, and she ignores the tone of his voice to just keep talking casually. Like they're friends.]
Speaking of the current situation -
[She hesitates, not knowing how he's going to take her question. ]
What team were you placed on?
no subject
[ Her question is a non sequitur, as far as he's concerned, as out of place as her smile. The teams are just the latest bit of irrelevance from the captains.
It takes him a moment to recall: ] Defense. [ He has not attended a single meeting. ]
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text; 7/11
[ Obi-Wan doesn't quite expect a reply — especially not after their last (and only) interaction — but he's plagued with a purpose. It's likely not to be considered one of Kenobi's better ideas, particularly with common company, but that doesn't seem to matter to the Jedi Master. Nor does the hour, which happens to be quite early in the morning, practically very late to those who haven't slept yet. ]
no subject
He expects a threat of some kind, and expecting it, he finds one--in the emphasis on training, on his being alone here among Jedi. ]
Yes.
[ A threat demands an answer. ]
no subject
Would you consider changing that?
1/2
The MID renders in flat text what he blurts out: ] What are you talking about?
2/2
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voice
voice
sometime july 16
So when Ben's face appears, it isn't entirely unexpected, but somehow it takes him by surprise all the same. It should feel like looking a stranger-- he doesn't know this boy at all-- but it doesn't. He finds himself smiling at his son's laugh, his story; ducks his head a bit at the end, unconsciously mirroring the motion.
And then he sits a long while, and then he watches it again, and once more, and then he scrolls through the functions on his MID without giving himself a chance to think better of the idea.]
Can we talk somewhere
Just us
voice to text
The message on his screen is nothing like that. It's sparse. It is, strangely, a relief.
Just us.
Kylo adjusts the settings on his MID. He speaks with his eyes closed, ignoring his voice and whatever trembles within it. ] The last time we did that, you died.
[ A warning, in its way. ]
voice to text
If you can kill a man you oughta be able to look him in the eye.
no subject
[ He'll be there when Han Solo arrives, waiting with ill-disguised impatience. His lightsaber is clipped to his side, his glass shoulder swaddled in fabric and buried under layers of clothing. He holds himself rigid—there's no concealing the infirmity when he moves. ] Well? [ His voice rings out before Han can speak. There's an edge to it, an eagerness.
Beneath the canopy of stars he looks small. They both do. ]
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09.07
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What put that thought in your head?
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